


Again

by Dopamineandducks



Series: The Wonderful Alternate Universe of Thor [1]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: A little tropey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, FEELS HOLY CRAP THE FEELS, Loki sometimes only thinks about himself, Loki's POV, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sex, Sif punches Loki in the face multiple times, Slight nod to Shakespeare; a cookie to those who can find it!, There's a cute cat!!, Wedding, maybe requited love, smutty smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dopamineandducks/pseuds/Dopamineandducks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idunn’s stepbrother is getting married this weekend, and Loki promised to be her date. After failing to find an acceptable excuse to bail on her, Loki’s inconvenient weekend turns into a nightmare from Hell when he realizes who Idunn’s stepbrother is marrying…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, I'm back! I felt this void once I finished "Cupid Kills With Traps" so I jumped into a feely oneshot placed in the same universe. There's some light referencing to that fic, so there may be a few things you won't get if you haven't read that, nothing crucial though. Also, this is my first attempt at "smut," so, be kind.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the very beautiful and powerful song "Again" by Scott Alan, featuring Hadley Fraser. If you have not heard Hadley Fraser sing, you have no lived yet. I highly recommend listening to him sing "I'll Be There" from the Pirate Queen or "Beyond the Door" from The In-Between. It'll give you the chills--CHANGE YOUR LIFE EVEN.
> 
> Trigger Warning: casual mentions of alcohol and hard drugs. Note, author does not condone (yet also does not judge) use of drugs.

 WHEREAS, the board of directors of Merger Sub has (a) approved and declared advisable this Agreement and

_BZZZZZZZZZZ_

the Transactions, (b) declared that it is in the best interests of

_BZZZZZZZZZZ_

Merger Sub and its sole stockholder that Merger Sub enter into this

_BZZZZZZZZZZ_

Agreement and consummate the Transactions on the terms and subject to the conditions set forth in this Agreement, (c) directed that the adoption of this Agreement be submitted to Parent Compa…

_BZZZZZZZZZZ_

Like a striking viper, Loki's hand shot to the vibrating phone on his desk, and brought it to his ear without checking the caller I.D.

“What,” he snapped viciously. Whoever was calling him on his personal phone at this time of day deserved to be treated like shit. He didn’t give his personal number out often, and to those who did have it, they would know better than to call him while he was at work. Even though he was a junior corporate lawyer for his father’s international business, Loki still had to earn his keep and prove himself effective. Taking phone calls in the middle of drafting paperwork to secure the acquisition of Svartalfheim Group, Inc. was not the way to do that.

“Well hello to you to _,”_ came the irritated voice on the other end.

He quickly checked his caller ID to confirm the identity of the familiar voice. “Idunn,” he said, voice losing some of the venom, “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to confirm you’re going with me to my stepbrother’s wedding.”

There was a long, drawn out silence in which Loki attempted to recall what the hell she was talking about. He couldn’t think of it. “What,” he asked sharply.

Idunn groaned in a not-so-attractive manner. “I knew you wouldn’t remember,” she grumbled. Loki could hear her rolling her eyes. “My stepbrother Simon is getting married, and you said you were going to be my date.”

Nah, Loki didn’t remember this at all. “When did I say that?”

Again, he could hear her optic nerves stretch from rolling her eyes. “Last month when we had dinner at Petrossian.”

He vaguely remembered eating at the restaurant. Mainly because the special reserve Ossetra caviar was exquisite that night. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall,” he said, only sort of meaning it.

“Loki,” there was a sadness in her voice, one that made him feel slightly more genuine about his apology. “You promised you’d go with me. It’s at a vineyard upstate.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose tightly, Loki slumped forward and tried to think of a way to squirm out of this pickle. “Isn’t there someone else who could go with you,” he asked, hoping beyond hope one of her girlfriends would be able in his stead. They could turn it into an OMG-my-boyfriend-totally-sucks weekend for all he cared. Just so long as he didn’t have to. “Sabrina or someone?”

“Her name is Sab _-EE-na_ , and no. Besides, you’re supposed to go to a wedding with your significant other, not your friend.”

Heaving a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and stared numbly at the scattered sheets of paper on his desk, and what of the merger he has drafted so far. Now that he thought about it, it had been awhile since he saved it. Almost neurotically, he pounded CTRL+S on his keyboard. “I have a lot of work to do, Idunn.”

“Loki,” her voice clipped and menacing, “For the love of God, I don’t ask much from you! Sometimes it seems like you don’t even want to be in a relationship. This requires efforts on both ends. I’m busy too, you know.”

How busy could a fashion designer and heiress to Golden Apple Corp. really be? Loki had no clue. All she did was doodle pictures and sew. He sighed. But she raised a great question: did he even want a relationship right now?—At all? “I’ll check my schedule,” he said, “I’ll call you back.” He said his obligatory “love you too,” hung up the phone, and tossed it back on his desk. Groaning, he pushed his hands up his face, and raked his fingers through his hair.

Idunn was a pain in his ass, but she had her functions. It definitely spoke well of him to be seen with her around the city, and there was no shortage of swanky soirees to attend as long as they were arm in arm. She was decent in the sack, did enjoy cooking for him, and always asked him about his day, even when he failed to return the question. Not to mention, she designed some sharp, high end suits for him to wear. If Loki loved anything, it was dressing to kill.

He buzzed his secretary sitting at her desk just outside his office. When he asked if he had any deadlines to meet over the weekend, or meetings he had to prepare for, she said no: his merger wasn’t due for another two weeks and he had no meetings until Thursday. Dumbstruck, his mind blanked. That _never_ happened. He was usually booked solid, hardly finding enough room in his schedule to take a piss let alone have an entire weekend with not even one business dinner. Of all the times he had an open weekend; it was when he didn’t want one.

Desperately, he picked up his phone and flipped through his contacts. His fingers tapped anxiously on the side of his desk as it ringed.

“Hello?” The familiar voice instantly filled Loki with a mixture of confusing emotions: tension, apprehension, and warmth.

“Thor,” he greeted, hoping he’d sound friendly, but being self-aware, Loki was sure he sounded anything but. “It’s Loki.”

“I’m aware,” his brother answered, sounding a little put-off. To be expected, though, given that Loki hadn’t contacted Thor since he essentially told their father to Fuck Off. Loki hadn’t been prouder, and yet more ashamed of his brother. “What’s up?”

“It’s been awhile, how’s medical school?”

“Taxing, but more enjoyable than business,” the edge in his voice turned suspicious. “Why?”

Ah, clever Thor. How wonderful that he finally wised up to the fact Loki always had a motive to everything he did. “I was curious if you were free this weekend,” he said. “It’s been awhile, and I was hoping we could catch up. Brother-brother bonding and all that noise.”

A pause—very similar to the one Loki utilized when speaking with Idunn. “Is everything okay, Loki,” Thor asked, suddenly concerned.

Loki’s spine prickled: how very like Thor to expect something was amiss if Loki ever suggested meeting up. Granted, something technically was amiss, but it bothered him that his brother never gave him the benefit of the doubt. Yes, he recognized the hypocrisy after silently celebrating Thor’s suspiciousness to his motives, but that was beside the point. “Everything’s fine,” he said, barely keeping himself from snapping. “I just haven’t seen my older brother in quite some time, and would like to remedy that.”

“Oh I’d love to, Loki!” Loki could practically see the sun reflecting on his brother’s face; the warmth in Thor’s voice suddenly radiating through his skepticism. Fool. “But I can’t. I have plans this weekend.”

Genuinely curious, Loki probed. “What are you up to?”

Another pause. This time, Loki became suspicious. “Just plans with an old friend.”

Beating around the bush only enticed and angered Loki further. “Plans? With whom?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

He was about to lose his temper—he didn’t care much for secrets being dangled in his face. “Yes!”

“Sif’s getting married this weekend,” Thor said carefully, “I’m her man of honor, or whatever….”

The phone nearly fell from Loki’s hand. For a moment, he felt separate from his body; like life was happening and he was elsewhere watching. That definitely wasn’t what he was expecting to hear, and instantly, he regretted hearing it.

“You okay,” Thor asked quietly.

It took Loki a second to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat. “Yes, sorry, my secretary brought in something for me to sign. Getting married is she? Good for her.”

“Yeah, she seems happy.”

Loki wanted to punch Thor for saying that. “Who is she marrying?”

“Some guy she met while in law school,” he said, a shrug apparent in his voice. “I’ve only met him a few times. I think he’s a veteran.”

He practically snorted at the idea of Sif eloping with a military man just like her father. How Freudian of Sif, he thought, how very Freudian and boring. “Wonderful,” he said tightly. “Well, I have to go—I’m going to be late for a meeting.”

“Okay, but hey, maybe next weekend we can—”

Loki already hung up the phone before Thor finished his sentence. With as much restraint as possible, he placed the phone gently on his desk. He pinched his temples with his thumb and middle finger. A migraine was threatening the rest of his day. Roughly, he pulled a bottle of Excedrin out of his desk, popped four pills, and chugged half his glass of water.

He turned back to his computer screen, blankly staring at the flashing cursor in his word document. The blinking line reminded him of a heartbeat, and he watched hypnotized. He lost his mind for paperwork. He couldn’t think of how to finish spelling “company,” much less continue with this legal bullshit. Like a storm, he shoved things back into his briefcase, grabbed his jacket, and stalked out of his office.

His secretary, a cute little thing with red hair and a heart shaped face, glanced up at him in question. He didn’t turn around as he spoke. “You can leave for the day, Miss Landley,” he said firmly, but not unkindly. He liked his secretary, and didn’t want to offend her. “I won’t be returning for the day.”

He barely heard her “thank you” as he stepped into the elevator, and viciously attacked the “close door” button.

***

Idunn chattered about her next runway show almost the entire way to her parents’ house, which was located in upstate New York where her stepbrother was getting married. He supposed he should care more about her passions and achievements, but even though he was a fan of fashion, he didn’t quite take the industry seriously. Perhaps if he was his younger, more creative self who aspired to make it as an actor would take the profession seriously. His younger self would also probably be mortified if he could see who he turned out to be. Loki lost his passion for art, turning instead to the practical world of meetings, emails, and responsibilities. He traded the color in his life for black, white, and navy.

Just after dusk, they pulled up to a colonial house that resembled a dwarfed White House. The windows glowed warmly from behind sheer curtains, suggesting a happy time beyond. Cars were lined in the driveway, a combination of luxury and economic vehicles. Loki parked his black Jaguar at the end of the line, wishing the driveway was some material other than gravel. Idunn looked positively electric to be back at her childhood home as she climbed out the car. Her face glowed as warmly as the windows.

“I just realized that this is the first time you’re meeting my parents,” she said, voice ever brimming with excitement.

Loki didn’t share her sentiment. In fact, he didn’t really care at all. “I suppose I should be on my best behavior,” he said as he pulled their bags out of the trunk.

She beamed, and looped her arm through his. “If you think it’s possible,” she said. Her eyes shone brightly as she gazed into his eyes. “I’m sure my parents will love you as much as I do.” She planted a kiss on his lips, one he half-heartedly returned, and followed her up the drive and to the burgundy double doors.

Idunn rang the doorbell, practically jittering with excitement as she waited for the door to be answered. They heard the faint clacking of heels on hardwood, and then the door opened to a gracefully aged woman sporting a Chanel sweater. The woman’s face lit up when her eyes fell on Idunn.

“Dunnie, baby,” she cried, rushing out to the porch to envelope her in a giant hug. Loki stood by as the two twirled, laughed, squealed, and embraced again.

Once they separated, Idunn grabbed Loki’s arm and pulled him forward. “Ellen, this is my boyfriend I’ve told you about, Loki Odinson. Loki, this is my stepmother Ellen.”

Loki put on his most charming grin as he extended his hand. “Pleasure,” he said.

She seemed to be very satisfied with him at first glance. “Loki Odinson of Asgard International,” she said slyly, her eyes brightening like a cougar courting her prey, “I’ve heard a lot about you via Idunn and other sources.”

Naturally. Growing up in one of the wealthiest families in the world, Loki had been in the news from time to time. He was most certainly not surprised given that Idunn’s father was CEO and majority share holder for Golden Apple Corp., an international corporation specializing in medical technology. Asgard International had a vested interest in the company, and Odin had kept his eye on them since Loki was a child.

“Good things, I hope.”

A sly eyebrow danced up onto Ellen’s smooth forehead. “Mostly.” She gave him a knowing look, one which informed Loki that Ellen was Idunn’s confidant when she was having relationship blunders, and invited them inside. He set his bags at the base of the stairs as instructed and followed Ellen into the dining room, allowing Idunn to hold his arm.

A decent sized gathering of people were sitting around the table. They all cheered when they saw Idunn and lined up for embraces and kisses. Once again, Loki stood to the side as she greeted each relative and friend in turn before she introduced him to everyone. They made their polite exchanges and decided it was best to move to the living room where they’d be more comfortable.

“Where’s Simon,” Idunn asked as she and Loki plopped down on the loveseat.

“Upstairs speaking with his jittery bride-to-be,” Ellen said fondly. “I hope her parents get here soon. Apparently, her mother is the only one who can talk her down from anxiety attacks.”

As the family chatted about mundane matters Loki had no interest in, he couldn’t help but notice Idunn’s father wasn’t around. When he asked, Ellen gave him a sharp look and informed him he was away on business, and would arrive in time for the wedding tomorrow.

“No talking shop,” she warned, pointed a well manicured finger at Loki, “Not during the wedding.”

He pledged on his word he wouldn’t utter a syllable related to work. His eloquence charmed Ellen, for her cocoa cheeks became tinged with red. “So, will you guys be needing two rooms,” Ellen said playfully, “Or two?”

Idunn rolled her eyes. “We’ll use my old room,” she said, rising. “Come on, Loki, let’s put our things away.” Obediently, Loki rose and followed her back towards the front of the house where their bags were. “You’re doing great,” she said, pleased beyond compare.

“I’m nothing if not ridiculously charming,” he said as he picked up the bags. The doorbell rang, and Ellen shouted from the living room if Idunn could answer it. Idunn, however, was already halfway up the stairs. So she leaned over the banister and gave Loki a pleading look.

He sighed, placed their bags back down, and answered the door. He couldn’t have been more surprised if he answered the door to Jesus Christ himself. Instead, he came face to face with a familiar pair of blue eyes, which were equally shocked to see him.

“Loki,” Thor asked incredulously.

Instantly, dread pooled in Loki’s body. His blood ran cold, freezing his heart and throat to prevent him from speaking. Suddenly, this weekend inconvenience turned into a nightmare in a split second.

“Oh god,” Loki said, feeling as if he was going to be ill.

“Who is it,” Idunn asked from the stairs.

Thor’s eyes flashed momentarily to her before falling back to Loki, concerned and still surprised. Loki had yet to remember how words worked as he stood there gaping at his brother. A door flew open upstairs, followed by the sound of feet rapidly thudding across the floor.

“Mom!?”

Loki nearly vomited everywhere as Sif appeared at the top of the stairs. Quickly, he turned his face and tried to figure out where to run. When she saw Thor, she squealed and barreled down the stairs past Idunn. Hide! Anywhere, just don’t let her…

“Thor, I’m so glad you—”

The room suddenly became horrifically quiet.

…see you.

He would never admit it. Not even after drinking a prodigious amount of alcohol would he ever admit that he was too terrified to turn around and face the situation behind him. He could hear the house hold its breath as it waited for what was to happen next. _Let it hold its breath then_ , Loki thought, _let it die._

“Sif,” Thor said, trying out his best crisis-responder voice. Loki wanted to destroy him for thinking he could pacify this situation. “I know this is unexpected, but—”

“Did you bring him here,” she snapped, voice suddenly alive with fire.

Loki’s neck burned. He wasn’t overly fond of being talked about like he wasn’t in the room. To most people who had ever been in Loki’s life, he had always been invisible, especially when Big Brother Thor was in the room. Sif always noticed him, though: at first because Loki was an unmitigated tyrant, but then because she saw past his shortcomings, and dared to lower herself to him. He would not become invisible to her now.

“What?! No!” Thor cried, his attempted calm demeanor now shattered. “I just got here and—”

“I’m here with Idunn,” Loki cut in, making sure he sounded as authoritative and condescending as he could manage. He gestured up to his girlfriend who was watching the scene unfold from the stairs. At his motion, she slowly descended the stairs to his side. “I’m accompanying her to her stepbrother’s wedding.” He slipped his arm around Idunn’s waist and tucked her to his side.

Sif’s eyes rapidly flashed from Loki, to Idunn, to Thor, back to Loki, then stopped on Idunn. “You’re Simon’s sister?”

She nodded slowly.

Sif nodded, and kept nodding as if she didn’t know what else to do if she stopped. She began to back away and head towards the stairs. Thor motioned to follow her, when a man appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Are your parents here, Sif?”

Loki looked up to see a man who oozed the soldier vibe descend the stairs. He regarded Loki and Thor with hard eyes as he took his place by Sif’s side, also snaking an arm around Sif and pulling her close. Sif suddenly became very rigid, her eyes finding a place on the floor to fixate on.

Thor cleared his throat and spoke first. “Simon, good to see you again,” he said, stepping forward and jutting his hand out. “It’s been awhile.”

Simon’s face instantly softened, and a white, toothy grin lit up the room as he returned Thor’s handshake. “Indeed it has.” He then turned to Idunn, smiling even wider. “Hey, kid!” He released Sif so that he could open his arms to his stepsister, which she immediately jumped into. After they embraced, Simon introduced Idunn to Sif properly. Sif seemed to snap out of a haze as she warmly greeted her future sister-in-law. Loki felt like he was watching some cruel, cosmic joke.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, two more people showed up at the door. When Simon opened it, the universe flipped Loki off. At the door, buzzing excitedly and holding their luggage, were Sif’s parents. Loki’s fingers instantly went to the bridge of his nose and began to pinch: the worst migraine of his life was preparing to make him its sniveling bitch.

They looked exactly like he last saw them. Tyr was still a mountain of a man, black hair cut short and high like a man of military prestige, a well groomed beard lining the square of his jaw, eyes like swords, and every muscle on his body still bulging and twitching. Her mother, Ona, was the exact opposite: small, lithe, with soft, friendly features. The only difference between her now and when he last saw her during his undergraduate career was the wisps of silver streaking her sable hair. He always loved Sif’s mother; she was very much like his own mother, and Ona had always been fond of Loki. He wondered what she thought of him now.

“Thor, my boy, take Ona’s bags before she hurts her back,” Tyr said as they shuffled inside. As Thor moved to take the luggage from Sif’s mother, she shouldered him away.

“I am not some delicate old lady,” she reprimanded, “I can carry my own weight.”

Sif swooped in and took the bag from her. “You just had surgery on your back, Mother. You shouldn’t carry things.” She glared at her father as she placed the luggage down by the stairs. “And you shouldn’t have let her carry them.”

“You try living with headstrong women and tell me how well giving them orders goes for you,” he retorted, giving her a pointed look. An eased smile took over Sif’s face, and Loki felt his chest lift witnessing it.

Then they noticed him. They stared at him, as if they were witnessing a skeleton waltz to Camille Saint-Saëns’s _Danse Macabre,_ mouths agape. Loki suddenly felt far too visible, but refused to waver from the stares. No one seemed to know what to say in the moment. Simon and Idunn exchanged questioning glances as the rest of them stood by awkwardly.

Thor was the first to act. He coughed politely and escorted Sif’s parents further in. “Ona, Tyr, I believe you remember my brother Loki,” he said as evenly as he could manage.

Tyr’s expression turned to that as stone as he drew to his full height, his gaze bearing down on Loki. By the cold flame in his eye, at least he made his current feelings on Loki transparently obvious. Ona, however, ever a charm-school lady, stepped forward, smiling. “Yes, hello dear; so lovely to see you again.” She pulled him in for a kind hug, which Loki returned meaningfully. Her fragrant perfume was the same she wore when he was in high school, and filled him with good feelings about amazing memories.

“It is,” he said as she pulled away.

Sif apparently took this cue to introduce Loki to her fiancé, taking great pains to emphasize that Loki is Thor’s younger brother, and would occasionally hang out with them when they were in high school. Loki tried not to snort: she was a pitiful liar. Simon seemed to accept this explanation, and gave Loki the sturdy handshake of a military man. He just barely suppressed the urge to rip him to the floor, and punch the shit out of his handsome face.

Simon invited them all to the living room to introduce them to the rest of the family. As they followed him to the glow of the living room, Thor grabbed Loki’s arm and held him back.

“What are you doing here,” he asked in hushed tones.

“Attending the wedding of my girlfriend’s stepbrother,” he hissed, “I called you to try and get out of it.”

“I couldn’t! I had Sif’s wedding!”

“And now here we both are,” he growled. Reminding himself that Thor was not his enemy at the moment, he drew a deep breath and dragged his hands down his face. This was most certainly a nightmare. There was no way this kind of thing happened in real life. Soon, his infernal alarm would wake him up and he’d be back in his condo with his cat’s tail swishing in his face.

“Are you okay,” Thor asked softly, placing a mighty paw on his brother’s shoulder. Loki suppressed the instinct to recoil, and chose to deflate instead.

“Yeah,” he barely managed to say. A chorus of laughter drew his gaze from the pine flooring to the din of the living room. He wanted to leave: jump in his car and leave everyone and everything behind. He didn’t care where he went, just so long as he couldn’t hear her laughing or see her hold another man’s arm.

Thor gave him a supportive pat on the back, and guided him into the living room for socializing. They sat beside each other on one of the couches for most of the night. As much as Loki hated it, he also appreciated Thor’s presence; he was the only one keeping him from losing his schooled demeanor.

Eventually, a Pizza Hut delivery boy showed up with six pizzas. Ellen apologized for her lack of a proper, sophisticated meal, but she figured it would be easier just to order pizza than have the staff cook a fussy meal. Loki watched amusedly as Tyr sneered at the ordinary chain restaurant pizza, but reluctantly took two pieces anyway.

Idunn soon came over to sit on Loki’s other side. She tried to engage in small talk with him, but he didn’t have anything to say. His eyes kept floating to Sif, stealing glances of her smile and wondering what the fuck was she thinking to marry a man like Simon? Sure, he was tall, broad, and could pass for Denzel Fucking Washington’s brother, but he was just like every other man. Forget his war decorations, machismo, award-winning smile that was whiter than fucking pearls, and his easy going character: he was lacking in something. Loki couldn’t pinpoint it, but he knew there was something precious Simon couldn’t give Sif. There just had to be…

Loki hoped at some point during the night, he would catch Sif’s attention. She’d come over to him and want to catch up: find out how he was doing, where he was at, and tell him the same about her. That never happened, though. She spent the evening talking with her father and Simon, who were bonding over stories of being in the service. Loki’s head pulsed with a migraine, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Around ten o’clock, Ellen suggested that the happy couple retire: the morning would be here before they knew it and would be the beginning of the rest of their lives. They agreed, wished everyone good night, and headed upstairs. Loki’s eyes followed her every step she took with that man until they were out of sight. His stomach knotted at the thought of Sif sharing her bed with another man.

The rest of them followed their example soon enough. Idunn guided Loki to her old bedroom where they’d be staying for the weekend; a room that didn’t look like it had been touched since her high school days. Her bed was a canopy bed that screamed spoiled princess, and piled high with fluffy pillows and blankets. There were cut-out pictures of attractive male celebrities tacked to her walls, and examples of celebrity makeup taped to her vanity mirror. Everything was so girly and pink.

As they climbed into her bed, Idunn knotted her fingers around his waist and began planting wet kisses on the side of his neck. Normally, Loki would be gung-ho for a round of hot, unadulterated, kinky sex, but he felt repelled by the idea of it. “Come on Loki,” she moaned in his ear as he hands slipped beneath the waistband of his sleep pants, “Let’s pretend we’re dirty teenagers and fuck each other senseless.” Her hot breath on his neck did nothing to stir the empty hearth in his gut. Besides, the context of her fantasy only made him think of his own adolescent romps with Sif…

“I have a migraine, Idunn,” he said, trying his best to sound apologetic. Of course, he failed and sounded more biting than he intended.

That seemed to douse her fire immediately. “Isn’t that my line to say when you don’t want it,” she asked, probably trying to be playful, but coming out annoyed. He didn’t answer her; he didn’t give a fuck about gender expectations and just wanted to sleep. Maybe sleeping in a nightmare would prompt him to wake-up in real life.

She gave up on waiting for him to answer and rolled over to face the other direction. It wasn’t long until her deep breathing denoted her falling asleep. Loki, however, couldn’t still his mind long enough to do the same.

***

Loki felt thoroughly ill the next morning. He hadn’t felt so bad since that one time in college he nearly OD’d. He was a sophomore and received his first invitation to attend a frat party. Normally, Loki wouldn’t have cared about whatever shindig Phi Omega Whatever was throwing, but he and Sif were in a lull in their relationship, and a girl from his poly-sci class who always wore low cut shirts asked if he would be there. So he went, pounded too many Jäger-bombs (he fucking hated Jägermeister), and tried cocaine for the first time. Needless to say, his body didn’t really care for all the shit he was taking and would have gone into cardiac arrest if the party wasn’t busted by the cops. Daddy Odin was able to pay off the school and prevent him from getting expelled, so it was essentially no harm, no foul. Sif even got back together with him, realizing how much she loved him when he almost died. Unfortunately, she would break up with him for good ten months later.

The house was bustling to prepare for the wedding. Everyone was loading the vehicles with supplies they needed to bring. At some point during the day, he saw Ona carry a large garment bag out to her car. Loki knew instantly what it was, and it only solidified the reality of the situation. Around two o’clock, they headed for the venue. Thor traveled with Idunn and Loki to provide silent support for his brother. Once again, Loki loathed the fuss, yet was deeply grateful for it.

They pulled up to a quaint winery about forty minutes away. Loki was appalled as he looked around. Disregarding the fact that Loki had never even heard of this particularly winery (and Loki was a connoisseur of local wines), the compound was comprised of a couple of lack-luster buildings made of wood and stone. There were no topiaries or flowers to make the landscaping more attractive: just patchy grass and gravel (did the world _want_ his Jag to get dented and dusty??). The vineyard was barely visible beyond the buildings, long stretches of grape vines extending out to the hills. The view was the only saving grace to the venue: they were surrounded by hilly landscaping covered with trees that stretched out ad infinitum. Sif, of course, would choose a venue so natural and gorgeous: she always said she felt tied to and calmed by the earth.

Other people were showing up as well, members of the wedding party and relatives who decided to show up two hours early for the wedding. Among those who were arriving, a familiar, lovely face stood out and recognized him almost instantly.

“Loki,” Sigyn gasped as she stepped out of her car.

He couldn’t help but grin as one of his oldest friends sprinted to him and leaped into his arms. He hugged her tightly, feeling refreshed by her. “Hello, Sigyn!”

She then apparently realized that he was here. “What on earth are you doing here,” she gasped and held him at arm’s length.

He nodded nonchalantly at Idunn who was helping Ellen bring in garment and makeup bags. “I’m dating the sister-in-law to be,” he said, perhaps a bit too bitterly for Sigyn raised her eyebrow. He quickly changed the subject. “You’re here for Sif, I imagine.”

She nodded. “Bridesmaid.”

A tall man with a rugged face that reminded Loki of Thor came up behind Sigyn. “Where should I put these,” he asked as he held up a tote and her garment bag.

Sigyn took them from him. “I’ll take care of it, thanks. Go find Thor and find out what he needs help with.” She then gestured to Loki. “By the way, this is Loki, my old friend from high school. Loki, this is my husband Theoric.”

They shook hands and exchanged the obligatory “nice to meet yous.” “You were also her first boyfriend, right,” Theoric asked without a trace of jealousy, but more of a sense of curiosity.

For whatever reason, Loki felt relieved that someone at least would own up to having dated him. “I do have the pleasure of having that title,” he said charmingly. “You’re a lucky man to have secured her permanently.”

Theoric agreed with a broad grin. He kissed Sigyn on the cheek and went off in search of Thor. Despite the overwhelming happiness that was apparent on Sigyn’s face, Loki couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself. “I’m glad you’re happy,” he said half-heartedly.

She smiled softly and touched his arm. “Thank you,” she said, “I hope you are, too.” She then politely excused herself, promising she’d meet up with him at cocktail hour to catch up, and headed towards the winery to get ready for the wedding. Idunn had also left gone ahead with Ellen to help with finishing touches. He tried to track down Thor, but being the “man-of-honor,” he was busy doing his own thing: getting into his tux, going over the ceremony game plan, then taking pictures with the rest of the bridal party. With nothing to do and sulking in his misery, he found the bar and made himself comfortable on a stool.

The bartender tried to be friendly with him by coaxing him with stories and what not, but Loki was far too maudlin to give a rat’s ass about any semblance of comfort. Tonight, he’d probably end up drinking the entire bar.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Idunn said as she pulled up a stool beside him. He sighed heavily and pinched his nose, gently rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Idunn gently laid a hand on his arm. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

He paused before he answered, mulling over his words. He could tell her the truth, for once. Say no, he wasn’t fucking okay, did he look like he was okay? Jesus Christ, use some critical thinking skills for once in your god-damned sheltered life. Instead, he sighed, realizing she had done nothing to deserve his wrath. “Yeah,” he lied and took a sip from his Negroni. “Migraine.”

She frowned. “I think I brought your Excedrin, just in case,” she said as she began rummaging through her purse. She found the bottle at the bottom of her bag, placed it on the counter, and asked the barkeep for a glass of water.

He sighed and humored her by knocking the four pills back and washing them down with water. Soothingly, she rubbed his back, as if the gesture alone would erase all of his problems. A twinge of guilt punched him in the gut: she was only trying to take care of him.

Why the fuck would she do that?

Because she loves you, you idiot.

Feeling rotten, he turned to face Idunn. She was wearing a beautiful black cocktail dress with art deco inspired detailing in gold beads. It looked like something she designed and sewed herself, and that brought a small smile to his face. Her hair had been swept up into an immaculate top knot and her makeup was flawless. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she coordinated her undergarments as well, knowing how much she loathed mismatched lingerie. He supposed she looked beautiful, at least his brain recognized she was, but his heart couldn’t share the sentiment. Still, he told her that she was and she beamed stunningly as she kissed him lightly on the lips. When he failed to put any real effort in returning the gesture, she frowned again.

“I’m worried about you, Loki,” she said softly, as she stroked his slicked hair. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

He chose to answer her with a stock excuse. “I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“You know you can always talk to me, right?”

Pause. Could he really? The invitation was supposedly there, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to tell her more than the broad strokes of what happened at work. “Yeah.”

She asked if he would come with her to sit down. The ceremony would be starting in about a half hour and she wanted to get a good seat to watch Simon. His gut rolled. Last thing he wanted a good seat for was the love of his life swearing heart and fidelity to another man who Loki could buy out in a second. He told her to go ahead, that he’d be along in a few minutes and just wanted to give the Excedrin a chance to kick in. She nodded, kissed him on the cheek once more, and walked towards the ceremony space.

Loki prayed for a brain aneurism—anything that would make him drop dead and not have to attend this shitfest. Hell, a brain aneurism was perfect as it would also delay this nightmare from happening. Fuck, who the hell was he kidding? They’d load his carcass on a stretcher as soon as possible so they could get the show on the road. Sif didn’t care: she hadn’t even said a word to him since their awkward encounter last night. Not even a “what the fuck are you doing here?!” that he got from everyone else who was surprised to see him. She just ignored him, like he wasn’t even there. This was something he wasn’t used to at all. He had always found a way into her attention: either by pissing her off severely when they were young and enemies, or by sweeping her off her feet when they were stupid and in love.

When he couldn’t wait any longer, he pushed himself away from the bar and trudged out to the ceremony space. It was held in a little stone courtyard in the center of the main building. He had to admit that the space was charming and romantic. The decorations were minimal, mostly because the plants and flowers provided enough décor. Candles glowed from different candelabras around the space, but most notably were the white Christmas lights strung from the walls and wrapped around every tree. His nostalgic heart smiled, but his present heart shattered: Sif loved white Christmas lights.

He found Idunn and her family in the front row of the groom’s side. Thankfully, Idunn saved him a spot at the very end of the row furthest from the couple. There wasn’t a shortage of distractions he could focus on during the wedding. When he sat down, Idunn introduced him to her father, Bjorn of Golden Apple Corp. He was a short, portly man with a red face, blue eyes, and thinning white hair. He looked very, _very_ Nordic in appearance, and Loki figured he and Odin would get along swimmingly. Bjorn even had the shrewd eyes that Odin possessed: he seemed to figure Loki out entirely with just once glance over. Doubtlessly, her father had done his homework on Loki, given that he was the son of one of his greatest competitors. Still, he was tactfully polite and expressed his gladness that his daughter had found such a well-to-do young man.

At four o’clock sharp, Simon and the officiant appeared beneath the flowering pergola. Ellen choked a sob at the sight of her son. Loki managed to steal a glance across the aisle at Sif’s parents. Tyr was beaming proudly at the former soldier standing at parade rest at the end of the aisle while her mother was already dabbing her eyes with a kerchief.

Loki realized he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t participate in this torture any longer. To hell with appearances, he refused to sit idly by and watch this cruel agony the universe was intent on punishing him with. What had he done that made him deserve this? How much did he fuck up in his past life to live the hell of watching Sif Tyrdottir, the only person who made Loki feel like a valued human being, curbstomp his heart into oblivion and walk away with another man?

“My head hurts,” he said suddenly and quietly to Idunn, “I’m going to be sick.” At least he was being honest. Alarmed, Idunn rose to follow him, but Loki refused her. She watched helplessly as he jogged out of the courtyard.

He made a beeline for the front entrance, jiggling his car keys in his pocket. Be damned the consequences, he wasn’t sticking around another second. He didn’t even care that he had a little too much to drink; he would risk a DUI, he would risk his life, he would even risk the life of someone else; he just needed to _go._

As he headed for the door, movement down the hallway to the left caught his attention. The bridal party was fussing in the hallway. Well, the men were standing by waiting to be told what to do, while the bridesmaids gathered around the door, clucking like hens.

“Okay, just don’t take too long, Sif,” Sigyn said as she closed the door. She instructed everyone to line up by the courtyard door and wait for the wedding planner’s cue. As they filed by, Thor shot Loki a questioning look, to which he responded with an expression he hoped said: “Fuck this, I’m leaving.” He seemed to get the message, for he nodded his head solemnly as he passed by.

Sigyn stopped to speak with him as she passed. “Loki,” she said softly, “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” he finally snapped, “I’m not okay with this. I’m not okay with being here, with Sif marrying some fucking prick, and I’m not okay witnessing it. I’m leaving.” He hoped she didn’t notice the wetness of his eyes, but knowing her, she probably did.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” she said, unfazed by his anger. She touched his arm sympathetically. “I understand.” She gave him a hug before saying she’d call him later if he’d like. Surprisingly, he said he would. Seemingly satisfied with that answer, she caught up with the rest of the bridal party and filed out in their choreographed walk.

He turned to push through the doors, but paused. Something bit at his ear, and refused to let him walk through the door. Slowly, he backed away, debating if he would follow the pleas his shriveled up heart was asking of him. He decided to abandon all reason, which was easier due to the alcohol he had consumed earlier, and marched down the hall to the door the bridesmaids came out of. His breathing stilled and his throat threatened to close as he lifted his knuckles and rapped on the door.

“Mom,” came a slightly panicked voice on the other side. For whatever reason, the edge in her voice both soothed him and compelled him forward. He turned the doorknob and pushed inside, terrified of what was to come, but refused to accept any other fate.

When he saw Sif, the breath in his lungs suddenly vanished. Though she was shocked to the core to see him once she turned around, Loki had never seen anyone or anything quite so breathtaking in his life. She was wearing an elegant, white ball gown with subtle detailing of pearlescent beads sewn tastefully into the bodice. The neckline of the dress traced the curve of her chest, and emphasized her toned shoulders and arms. Sif stared dumbly at Loki, and if he weren’t too awestruck to move, he would have covered his mouth with his hand due to the overwhelming feeling that passed through him.

“Loki,” she breathed, her eyes scouring him like a vicious dog, “What on earth are you doing here?”

The alcohol rapidly burned away as he became soberly aware of what he was doing. A million things to say passed through his head, but only one thing managed to fall from his lips.

“I still love you.”

A wave of emotion passed over Sif’s face. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking or feeling, but she was paying attention to him, and there was no way she wasn’t feeling _something_ from that. Blinking rapidly as if she could clear the confusion from her eyes, she opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut immediately. She repeated this several times, her chest beginning to heave as her eyes became frantic. Just as she was working up the ability to say something, Loki intervened.

“Just let me get this out, Sif,” he pleaded. He desperately wanted to go to her side, touch her, hug her, feel her, but his feet were rooted where he stood. Either from her inability to speak, or some sick curiosity, she closed her mouth and watched him, her eyes somewhere between fury and confusion. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he met her gaze.

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he prefaced. God he wished he had some Tequila. “But I couldn’t live with myself if I walked away without saying this to you.” He searched her face for any sign of anything, but she stared on, the same hostile, yet curious gleam in her eyes.

“I'm sorry for everything, Sif; for every promise I broke, every slight I made, and every time I chose to do something else instead of spend time with you. I still love you, Sif. I tried to ignore it, I tried to bury it, but I can't get over you. I regret letting you slip through my fingers, and chasing you into the arms of someone else. It's killing me: this whole wedding is destroying me. I can't think of a more heinous punishment than losing the woman of my dreams to someone else," he trailed off, feeling drunken tears sting his eyes. He wondered if letting them fall would do anything for his case. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "But I needed to say that before you vanished...again."

She was unflinching during the entire speech and now she just stood there, staring at him with a peculiar look on her face. A fool’s hope lighted in his heart: since this entire situation was surreal, maybe the dreamlike events would continue to happen. His logic told him that this was futile: expecting Sif to suddenly drop everything and rush into his arms, professing the same thing about him was _not_ going to happen. But maybe, his foolish, boyish, romantic hope thought, just maybe it would.

Still, she was silent and didn’t appear to be thinking of anything to say. Her eyes were unreadable, a revelation that destroyed Loki inside for he was always able to peer in her lovely hazel eyes and know what she was feeling. Now, he was blocked out. He squirmed in the silence, and didn’t even bother to hide his discomfort. He had come this far and bore so much of himself already: what was the point to hiding anymore?

“Please say something, Sif,” he pleaded, pushing his fingers through his hair. A few locks fell out of place and hung miserably in his face. “Anything, just say something.”

His heart jumped to his throat as she approached him. Breathless again, he deigned to hope this is where she’d press her mouth against his and confess that she loved him still, and was so relieved he was here. Instead, he received a solid punch to the jaw, knocking him back a few feet and almost sending him to the floor ass first. He pressed a hand to his jaw, stunned, and looked up at the furious woman looming over him.

“How dare you,” she breathed, fire spilling from her mouth. “How dare you walk in here and say that to me.”

So, maybe dreams wouldn’t come true today.

“Sif, I—”

“No, no, you shut up,” she yelled, “It’s my turn! You think you can waltz right in here on my _wedding day_ and dump this shit on me? Not only that, but refer to my wedding as ‘a punishment’ to you. As if my wedding has _anything_ to do with you! You’re a selfish asshole, Loki, that’s why we didn’t work out: because you couldn’t think of anything but your needs, your desires, and your career. I found someone who cares about what _I_ do, Loki. He cares about my dreams and aspirations, and supports me while I work towards them. He doesn’t leave me to my own devices: he participates; something you can _never_ do.”

She paused in her onslaught, letting the lashing sink into his flesh and sting him. Tears streaked her lovely face, cutting through her makeup and smudging her mascara. Despite the barrage of bullets, he still wanted to wipe them away. “I’m so over you, Loki,” she said shakily. “And I never want to see your miserable ass again.”

He slowly climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving her. She turned away from him, her shoulders hunching forward and shaking as Loki heard her try to stifle her sobs. The truth of her words finally sunk in: he was selfish. So disgustingly selfish. This was supposed to be the “happiest day” of Sif’s life, and he reduced her to tears with his wanton confession of love. If he was a better man, he would have let her go: let her be happy and be glad with the fact she was. He wasn’t, though. He had always been selfish, and he grimly didn’t see that changing.

He slunk out of the room and closed the door softly behind him. There was a commotion of sorts happening in the courtyard. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was twenty minutes after four: he had held Sif’s wedding up for a hopeless confession of devotion. He saw her mother head towards the door, probably in search of Sif, and Loki took that as an opportunity to leave. Quickly, he left the building and climbed into his Jaguar. Before he drove off, he sent Idunn a text message simply stating he was leaving, and drove back towards the city.

 

***

The days following the wedding were, to say the least, the shittiest days of Loki’s life. Idunn texted him nonstop, going from concern about his wellbeing to pissed that he was ignoring her. When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he shamefully broke up with her via text message, citing the fact this wasn’t the time he needed to be in a relationship. Understandably, Idunn was pissed. After thirteen months he suddenly decided he wasn’t ready for a relationship? After everything she had done for him? She was definitely creative with the insults: pig-fucking rich boy, silver-tongued fuck face, yadda yadda yadda. He took the abuse without a fight (successfully stopping himself from pointing out that if he were a pig fucker, then that would, in fact, make her a pig); it’s not like he deserved any better.

As if the breakup couldn’t get any worse, he got a phone call from Odin himself, informing him of sudden hostile relations with Golden Apple Corp. Bjorn had apparently informed Odin that if he raised a son like Loki, his care for nurturing business relationships must be equally abominable. So not only had Loki’s social life taken a fatal hit over the last 96 hours, but now his father solely blamed him for damaged relationships with a potential business partner.

Thankfully, Loki had no plans after work today. His colleagues rescheduled a business dinner for the next night, leaving him to himself and his ruminations. He decided to order himself an obscene amount of Thai food and spend the evening reevaluating his life choices. Since his future as a corporate lawyer seemed to be on the rocks, he weighed the pros and cons of getting back to his roots as a defense attorney. At least there seemed to be some soul in that.

He chuckled mirthlessly. One bad weekend and he’s ready to turn a new leaf and live for goodness and justice and rainbows! As if Loki could be anything but a villain.

“Since I cannot prove a lover,” he quoted darkly, “I am determined to be a villain.”

He shuffled into his kitchen to grab a drink. After expertly pouring a well portioned serving of whiskey into a glass, he plopped down on his chic gray couch and gingerly nursed it. There was no real point to the glass: Loki planned on killing the bottle tonight anyway, but drinking straight from the bottle would have made him feel too much like a washed up nobody. He needed to preserve his sense of class, anyway.

His doorbell rang, and Loki was pleased that his Thai food had arrived so quickly. It wasn’t like he was hungry—he hadn’t had an appetite since he arrived at Idunn’s parent’s house—but he liked it when he was served quickly. He grabbed his wallet from the little table by his front door and began pulling out some bills as he opened the door.

“Was it 37.50,” he asked as he fished two twenties out of his wallet. He looked up expecting to see some pubescent delivery boy holding a white bag stuffed with Pad Thai and three orders of vegetable tempura, but nearly fell over when his eyes fell on Sif standing in front of him in a soaked jacket. He stared, mouth agape, with his hand holding forty dollars extended forward. He nearly dropped his wallet from the sudden numbness that encompassed his body.

“Sif…?”

Pain exploded in his jaw as she punched him again, causing him to drop his wallet and money and stumble back into his apartment. He caught himself on an end table and rubbed his jaw. His joint creaked as he rolled his jaw, testing to make sure it wasn’t broken. Then he looked up long enough to see a severely pissed off Sif march towards him again. He loved her, yes, and definitely ruined her wedding, but he was _not_ going to be assaulted in his own home.

He stood erect, prepared to detain her if she threw anymore punches, but what she did next was enough to make him believe he died. She pushed past his arms that tried to hold her off, grabbed the back of his head, and brought his mouth crashing down onto hers. All thoughts vanished from Loki’s mind, leaving him helpless as he tried to figure out what the hell was happening and if this was real. She desperately licked his lips with her tongue, seeking passage to mouth. After a few dumbstruck seconds, he parted his lips. Her tongue probed his mouth hungrily, punctuating every long, passionate kiss with a gentle, yet possessive, kiss on his lips. She pressed her body flush against his, pushing herself into him and tightening her arms around his neck.

Slowly, Loki began to catch up with current events and closed his arms around her. This couldn’t be real, he thought. Just four days ago, she wanted him dead. Or at least he wouldn’t have been surprised if she wanted him dead, but she definitely never wanted to see him again. Yet here she was, a few days into her marriage with Simon Walters, and exploding with a passion Loki had been without for years.

A gentleman would have pried her off, asked her what was going on, and why she was doing this after she got married. But Loki was a villain—a selfish villain—and he kissed her back with such fire that a moan escaped Sif’s lips. He barely had time to kick the door closed before Sif pushed him farther into his apartment until he collided with his dining room table.

Desperate fingers began to rip at the buttons of his shirt as Sif tried to undress him. Frustrated and with complete disregard for the garment, she savagely ripped the buttons off and pushed his shirt off before pulling his undershirt over his head. He began to work at her clothing, starting with her rain soaked jacket and then peeling off many annoying layers of clothing until she was down to her black bra. The feel of her skin pressing flush against his was better than any high he ever experienced in his life. It was so intense, yet so beautifully familiar.

He hoisted her up onto his waist and spun around so she was pinned between him and the table. Her clumsy fingers disparately fumbled with his belt until she managed to undo it and unzip his pants. A pleasurable groan flew from his mouth as she slid her hand in over his underwear and grabbed his throbbing erection. She began to stroke him, driving him absolutely mad. His teeth sank into her shoulder, leaving her deep bruises as he began to grind into her hand. He wanted to feel her; rip her pants off and touch her slickness, push inside of her with his pleading cock and make her scream his name again.

He began to thrust against her, reminding her of his skills and teasing her with the promise of pleasure. She withdrew her hand and returned it to around his neck. She pressed her mouth against his once more, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth, as she gyrated against him. Another moan emitted from Loki. His deft fingers fell to the buttons of her slacks where he masterfully undid each one. She pressed her hips against his hand, craving his touch, and he smirked against her mouth, feeling powerful.

There was a soft _thump_ on the table beside them, followed by an agitated _meow!_ Startled, Sif broke the kiss to see a brown British shorthair staring at them, swishing its tail lazily. “You have a cat,” Sif stated, surprised.

“She’s good company,” he explained sheepishly as he tried to shoo her away. The cat, however, was far more curious about why the attention was on this new stranger, rather on her. She meowed again when Loki gave her an impatient push.

“Beatrice, get,” he snapped as he pushed her again.

Sif’s head snapped to look at Loki. “What did you name her?”

A soft smile danced on his lips. “Beatrice…”

She stared at him as if she had learned something completely new about him. Her brow knitted and her eyes pleaded him as she crushed her lips back against his with new fire, pushing her hips enticingly against his.

He groaned again, and decided that if the cat wasn’t going to leave them alone, they would just leave the cat. He collected Sif in his arms, her legs wrapping immediately around his waist, and carried her down the hall to his bedroom where he shut the door to keep Beatrice out. The room was completely dark, save for the millions of New York City lights casting his room in a haunting, city glow. He placed her gently on the bed, their mouths never parting, and ripped her pants off. A smile appeared on his face at the sight of her lacey, yellow panties. He loved that they didn’t match her bra at all.

Apparently, he was staring and slacking off too long for Sif took the liberty to push her underwear down herself. Remembering the current situation, Loki turned his attention back to Sif as a whole and ran his tongue up and down her body, tasting her skin, and drawing short gasps and long moans from her. As he turned his ministrations to a spot on her hip he remembered drove her crazy, he reached between her legs and felt her wetness. He lost his breath as his eyes rolled to the back of his head when he felt how prepared she was for him. His erection pulsed painfully where it remained neglected in his boxer-briefs.

Sif gasped from the touch of his fingers and pressed against them, silently begging for him to touch her harder. In no mood for teasing, he plunged his fingers inside of her, worrying the walls of her cervix and pressing his thumb against her clit. She cried out and rocked against his hand, chest rising and falling with labored breathing. Softly, she murmured “oh my god” and “yes” and “oh Loki…”

He had had about as much as he could take. Withdrawing his hand from Sif, he stood to finish undressing. Sif readied herself by crawling back against his pillows and splaying her legs for him. He was on top of her in a flash, his mouth consuming hers with deep, hungry kisses. She closed her thighs and squeezed his waist with her strong adductors. The head of his dick found the opening to her. He groaned against her mouth at the feel of her dripping on his cock.

Something suddenly nagged at him. She was a married woman now and had inexplicably barged into his condo, the sole motivation for which was seemingly sex. He had no idea what was going on, but he couldn’t proceed irresponsibly anymore. “Are you sure you want this,” he asked, pulling away from her so he could look her in the eyes.

This question seemed to catch her off guard. There was a pause in which they just gazed at each other, something unknown passing between them, before she nodded. “Yes,” she breathed.

He nodded, lowering himself back to her and placing a tender kiss on her lips. She met his pace of long, sensual kisses as he reached to his nightstand and fumbled in the drawer for his condoms. When he couldn’t find any, he swore profanely and began to rip apart the drawer in desperation. Sif rolled her eyes and pulled him back for a kiss.

“I’m on the pill,” she said between kisses.

And just like that, Loki was more excited than he thought possible. They continued to kiss languidly as Loki pushed himself inside of Sif and began to thrust in slow, fluid motions. Sif exhaled against his mouth and arched into him, as if she had just been injected with heroin. He grabbed her breast in his hand and began to massage her, drawing more moans from her swollen mouth. Her arms flailed out to his neck and brought him back down to her where she kissed him fiercely.

“I missed you,” she breathed against his mouth.

A wave of some intense emotion crashed against him like the tumultuous sea on a rocky shore. “I missed you too,” he whispered as he began to thrust faster.

Sif gasped and arched into him. “So much.”

“So fucking much.” He thrust into her with abandon, altering their sensuous lovemaking into desperate fucking. Sif rocked with him, moaning his name and digging her fingers into back. Loki felt himself starting to peak, but concentrated as hard as he could to keep going. They had just started: there was no way he was going to wimp out on her after she left her new husband. He was going to make the top of her head explode; he would remind her who her best fuck ever was.

Stopping for a second, he grabbed a pillow and placed it under Sif’s lower back. She was apparently very pleased with this new angle as he pushed back inside of her. Her moans were louder and she writhed beneath him in pleasure. Loki was beside himself watching her squirm and bounce beneath him. She was Sif: his lovely, beautiful, familiar Sif. Her hand sought out Loki’s and laced her fingers with his. There was no doubt in his mind she was enjoying this: her tightness and his very adequate size created enough friction to let him die a happy man; _mort immortel._

Her face began to scrunch up and her moans became silent. He knew this sign well and began to thrust harder and deeper. Her mouth dropped open as if silently screaming, and all her muscles tensed. Loki hoped she would get there sooner rather than later; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going. Then, Sif thrust her hips up against Loki and cried out, her back arching and knees squeezing around him. He managed to let her ride through her orgasm before he came hard inside her with a roar.

He pulled out and collapsed breathlessly beside her. They lay entangled with one another, sweaty and spent. She scooted closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist, and planted a series of fatigued kisses along his jaw and neck. Loki tipped her chin up to him and kissed her deeply, putting every ounce of feeling he could muster into his kisses. He wondered if he really was dead, or if he was having the best dream of his life. Even though he was exhausted and his eyes threatened to flutter shut, he was too afraid to sleep. The possibility that this night wasn’t real, or that Sif would be gone before he woke up was too terrifying to face. Still, he shifted against Sif until they found comfortable positions and drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

***

When Loki woke up to the gray of the New York morning filtering in through his window, he was alone. He shot up, head whipping around for any trace of Sif. Sighing, he slumped against his headboard as he debated what would have been worse: letting her go in a clean break, or torturing himself by being reminded of what he was missing before she walked away for good?

The digital clock on his nightstand glared 5:15 in angry red numbers. It would be going off in an hour to wake him up for work. He contemplated calling in sick, but then what would he do: sit around and mope all day? As he was sinking back into his bed, a cloud of gloom following him, the toilet of his en suite bathroom flushed and Sif stepped back into his room wearing a tank top and her yellow underwear. He sat upright, surprised and delighted she was still there.

“Did I wake you,” she asked as she climbed back into his bed.

He shook his head and watched her as she got comfortable in the upright position. This time, however, there was a sizeable distance between the two. Loki’s stomach lurched, but he kept his demeanor cool. She sat there, staring blankly into the dimness of his room. He couldn’t help but notice how chiseled her legs still were.

The nagging feeling came back to him. Questions about her buzzed in his head. He still had no idea why she came to sleep with him so soon after getting married. He also had no clue why she was being so distant now: last night was wildly passionate and intimate, she even confessed to missing him. Now she was stock still and out of arm’s reach. She probably regretted everything.

Still, he had to know for certain. “What’s going on Sif?”

It was as if she expected the question. After a second, she dragged her eyes away from some unknown focal point and studied him. He felt exposed beneath her stare, but he didn’t mind. If momentary discomfort of being vulnerable is what it took to keep her, he’d lay naked before her until she was certain he could be trusted again.

“I called off the wedding,” she said quietly.

Loki was stunned to hear this news. He had hoped and begged for some divine intervention to stop it, but he never expected it would happen. A creepy, eerie sensation passed over him; as if he was uncovering some arcane conspiracy. At the same time he felt relief and hope, he felt guilty. Guilty that he was the cause of a lovely wedding ending in flames.

“I’m so sorry, Sif,” he said softly, hoping that his sincerity was obvious.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Odinson, I had trepidations about the wedding long before your spectacle,” she snapped hotly. Once again, he was stunned silent. Just goes to show him: never believe that anyone or anything held tremendous sway over Sif Tyrdottir. She sighed and buried her face in her hands. “I had doubts about marrying him from the moment I said yes.”

Loki listened intently as Sif described the reasoning behind her engagement, and why she dated him at all. She was going through a dark time during the end of her relationship with Loki and for a time afterwards as well. He felt ashamed that he had no idea Sif was struggling so much while he was dating her. Anyway, Simon came along and helped her laugh again. He was patient with her, never once making an inappropriate move on her, always being there to talk. One day, after enough time had passed, he asked her on a date.

Maybe it was the fact she knew he cared, or that his military vibe was so comforting to Sif, she agreed and dated him for two years before agreeing to marry him. When she accepted his proposal, she felt sick. She thought it was just nerves, but as wedding plans went on, she realized something was wrong, and she didn’t want to get married. She didn’t even know if she truly loved Simon anymore. At that point, though, her parents had already dumped so much money into the wedding that she felt like she couldn’t back out.

So as the wedding day got closer and closer, Sif had panic attacks about the cage she was walking into: she would be prisoner in a life she knew she didn’t want. Then when Loki showed up and confessed his feelings for her, it was the final push that sent her over the edge. Her mother came in to find out what the holdup was, and she hysterically relayed everything Loki had said, how his words filled her with confusing emotions, and she didn’t want to marry Simon anymore, if at all. At least the kind of love she expected she'd have for her future husband.

It wasn’t her finest hour, blubbering like a toddler in her mother’s pretty silk dress, but she had bottled so much up that she couldn’t stop. Simon apparently came in not much later, and received the devastating news. She then ran to Thor’s car while her mother broke the news to everyone, and Thor drove Sif to a nearby waterfall to help calm her down. She had spent the last few days returning all of the wedding presents and fixing the damage she had caused.

Loki had a lot of questions: first, why the hell didn’t Simon’s parents pay for the wedding? They were the corporate heads of a multimillion dollar company. Second, she said that Loki’s confession stirred confusing feelings within Sif. He wanted to know what she was feeling, and why was she confused. He wanted to know if there was a chance he brought back feelings of love she used to have for him. As much as he wanted to ask, he swallowed the question. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t important at the moment. He couldn’t ask anything he wanted to know.

“Do you want some coffee,” he asked casually.

She furrowed her brow, not expecting him to ask that, and then nodded. He climbed out of bed, put on his pajama bottoms, and shuffled into his kitchen. Beatrice was behind him in an instant, yowling her displeasure with her treatment last night. To pacify her, he gave her some catnip and all was forgiven.

Sif joined him a few moments later. To his extreme pleasure, she was still wearing her tank top and underwear, but added socks to keep warm. He couldn’t help but smile and note how adorable she looked. He poured her a cup of coffee and threw in three heaping spoonfuls of sugar, just as he remembered her liking it. She smiled as she accepted the mug and took her first drink. Goosebumps broke out over her skin as she sighed with satisfaction.

“You have any food,” she asked after another sip.

He frowned and checked his cupboards, even though he knew the answer. “I have some crackers and chevre cheese,” he said apologetically.

Sif guffawed. “What do you eat?”

He shrugged. “Not very much at home. Most of my meals are taken with clients and associates.”

Sif gave him a strange look and asked for the crackers. “Sounds awful,” she said with a mouthful of cracker.

He found her atrocious manners endearing. Rude, but endearing. “It’s not all bad. Oh, I think Idunn left muffins somewhere.” He went tearing through his cabinets until he found a blue box with three muffins left in it. He pulled it out and gave Sif her choice of the three. She selected a pumpkin muffin with a sugar crumble and began tearing pieces of the top off.

“Sorry about last night,” she said quietly.

Loki genuinely laughed. “Don’t be."

She furrowed her brow. “What about Idunn? Are you going to tell her?”

Oh, that’s why she was sorry. He shrugged. “We broke up the other night. I think she could care less.” He thought about that for a moment. “No, she’d probably put sugar in my gas tank if she found out.”

She didn’t participate in his mild chuckling. “Why did you break up,” she asked somberly.

The room got quiet as he stopped his laughing and gave her a level look. “I think you know why.”

The air grew increasingly uncomfortable. Sif refused to make eye contact with Loki. Quietly, she stood holding her mug of coffee, seemingly folding in on herself. Again, he was filled with the desire to comfort her, but he dared not invade her space. She looked troubled, and so very lost. There was nothing he wanted more to do than help guide her back—back to him—but he knew she would just resist him if he tried to persuade her. So, he stood by helplessly watching as his heart broke for her.

Without another word, she put down her coffee and muffin, gathered her clothes from the dining room where Loki stripped them off the night before, and shut herself in his bedroom. Sighing, he stayed in the kitchen, wondering what was going to happen next. Sif reemerged a few moments later completely dressed again in her jeans and sweater. There seemed to be a bit of energy in her walk this time, and Loki wondered if that was a good sign.

“So what are you going to do now,” he asked as she finished the rest of her coffee and began to properly work on her muffin.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I can’t stay here.”

“Where,” he asked warily.

“Here,” she repeated, no clearer than before. “I can’t do it. Everyone knows I was supposed to get married. I can’t face them when they find out I left him at the altar. I can’t handle the stares and the hushed whispers behind my back.”

For once, Loki believed that Sif was going through more emotional drama than he was. He wondered if the feelings of helplessness and desire to fix everything were the feelings Sif experienced when he got overwhelmed. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged. “Anywhere but here.” She ate a piece of her muffin and continued speaking, seemingly more out loud than to him specifically. “Heimdall is back in the States. He’s been stationed at Ft. Lauderdale so I may go live with him until things blow over. May start a new life down there, I don’t know.”

His heart panged at the idea of her moving away for good. He flew all over the country and the world, but he had no business associates in the entire south let alone in Florida. God, he was being an idiot. He didn’t need a business excuse to go visit her: he could just go visit her…provided she wanted to see him.

“I meant what I said to you, Sif,” he said quietly. Her olivine eyes darted up to meet his. “Before your wedding. I meant every word.”

“Loki,” she pleaded, every muscle in her body tensed.

“I’m not asking for anything, Sif,” he said assuredly, “I just wanted you to know.” She watched him, her eyes unsure and threatening to water. He couldn’t help but smile at her, hoping his gesture would ease her.

She managed a small smile in return. Reflexively, Loki’s smile broadened, and Sif mirrored him. There was nothing in the world more wonderful than seeing her smile. He wondered how he ever got along without it, and then realized that he never really did.

She finished her muffin and said she’d better get going. There were still a couple of loose ends she needed to figure out before she took the next step forward. He walked her to the door and held it open for her. She stood at the threshold, seemingly apprehensive to take another step.

Part of Loki wanted to feed that apprehension: convince her to stay with him. He’d cancel his appointments and meetings for the day, and spend all of his time with her. They could go shopping, sight-seeing, build a puzzle, or have another debauched romp in his bedroom—anything to get her to stay. As much as he wanted her to keep her, though, he knew she couldn’t be contained. She’d fight her way out and never return if he tried to convince her now. So he resigned himself to letting her go.

“If you need anything,” he said strongly, “ _Anything_ —money, a friendly ear, or another night in the throes of passion—call me.” He felt like flying when she laughed instead of took offense to his little not-really joke.

“Thanks, Loki,” she said warmly. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, one which he returned tenfold. For longer than he expected, they lingered in each other’s arms as if they couldn’t let go. Loki felt like he literally could not let her go, but when she began to pull away, he let her slip from his arms without protest. She gave him one last smile before she stepped into the hallway and headed towards the elevator. He watched her the entire way, taking great pains to hide the fact that he wanted to throw up. She glanced down the hallway to him when the elevator doors opened. After a final smile and a little wave, she got on and left.

Loki deflated almost instantly. He never felt so stupid, yet so horribly noble in all of his life. He turned to go back inside when a note taped to his door caught his attention. Curious, he pulled it down and saw it was his Thai food receipt with “ASSHOLE” written in red marker. He laughed whole heartedly at the miserable delivery boy who was stood up while he was having the best sex he had had in years. He crumpled up the receipt and threw it in the trash when he went back inside.

The clock on his wall read 6:32. He had an hour before he had to be at his office and grab the draft of the Svartalfheim Group merger proposal before he had to meet his colleagues for a briefing. He showered and dressed in a severe black Armani suit. Whenever he glanced at his bed, he visualized Sif writhing with the pleasure he was causing her the night before. He was not a religious man, he was very sure that there was no form of divine god responsible for their creation and supervision, but he prayed to any being willing to listen that watching Sif board the elevator would not the last time he’d see her. He’d even settle for seeing her under casual circumstances with Thor, just so long as she wasn’t gone forever.

As he fought the horrific New York traffic to his office, responded to some emails that couldn’t wait, and sat through meeting after meeting, he thought of Sif. He thought about where she was going next, what she was feeling right now, if she was lonely and needed someone, and if there was something she needed but was too proud to ask. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she would bounce back even stronger than she was now; she was Sif Tyrdottir and nothing shackled her to the floor. Wherever she went and whatever she set her mind to, he knew it was only a matter of time before she achieved it, and he hoped beyond all hope that she would want to share it with him once she succeeded.


End file.
